


Music To His Ears

by hollyblue2



Series: SPN ABO Bingo [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bar Owner Benny, Bonding, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Claiming, Fanart, Hospitals, Hurt!Cas, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mating, Pianist Dean, Rejection, Scenting, brief mention of past Dean/Benny, made up ABO medical stuff, omega!cas, truemates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 15:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13344522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/pseuds/hollyblue2
Summary: On the way home from work, Castiel hears the lilting tune of a piano and eventually goes to investigate. When he does he finds his mate in Dean Winchester, who rejects him right off the bat, sending Castiel into a debilitating heat.Ending up in hospital, Castiel and Dean finally meet again...





	Music To His Ears

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was _supposed_ to be a quick ficlet of about 2k words and ended up as a 15k monster!
> 
> So, enjoy this piece which was beta'd by @foxymoley and also arted by her too with help from wolfinyourbed :D So super kudos to them for creating an awesome piece of art for me!!!

 

**x**

Castiel trundles home from staying late at his bookshop. Home isn’t worth going back to when it’s a tiny apartment in the shady area of the city. Where thumps, bumps and spousal arguments can keep him up for hours. Castiel pulls his scarf over his mouth to keep out the chill and pulls his trenchcoat in closer.  It’s a downhill trek to his apartment, cold and bitter in the mid November of Sioux Falls. His trenchcoat doesn’t seem enough.

On his journey home, Castiel always passes by several bars, all of which he normally speeds past because as much as he can defend himself if he needs to, being an Omega in these parts of town isn’t the safest.

That night though, Castiel feels a pull. He hears music, beautiful lilting piano playing a tune he doesn’t know but feels like he’s heard the entirety of his life. It’s as if someone has taken his hand and is dragging him towards the door to hear more and to see who’s playing.

It’s late though. He’d stayed longer than intended at his shop and he should go home and eat before he sleeps. He _has_ to leave. Castiel shakes himself off and ignores the almost painful pit in his stomach begging him to go back. His Omega brain itching to take over and go in. He _has_ to leave.

Castiel storms past and eventually the sound of the piano can no longer be heard and is replaced by the thumping beat from the sports bar on the next block.

Locking himself in his apartment, Castiel sheds his coat and scarf and pulls on the thick jumper he likes to wear around his draughty apartment. He sits on the couch, thrifted from a street corner—worn thin with patches of who knows what spilled over it—and stares at the bare space above his short bookshelf. That music is playing on a loop in his head, scratching at the walls of his mind, keeping that pull back towards that bar alive.

Castiel takes a deep, shuddering breath and stands up, blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy as he takes steps towards the kitchen. He makes a coffee on autopilot and puts the leftovers of the night before’s dinner in the microwave.

The shudder of the percolator and the hum of the microwave finally drowns out the tune in his head. His meal is bland and boring, necessity more than anything.

The rest of his evening, where it’s normally filled with reading and binging Netflix shows, is filled with stony silence, and an almost catatonic stare at the wall, music in his mind.

“Fuck it,” Castiel hisses to himself, launching off his couch and into his bedroom, just to get himself moving again. His mattress is on the floor as his bed frame broke several months ago and is stacked in a sorry pile in one corner of his room. Tearing off his t-shirt and pants, he climbs into bed, forcing his breathing to even out so he can sleep. His thin, lumpy mattress isn’t comfortable and the springs ping and pop every time he moves.

Sleep doesn’t come for what seems like hours, he’s restless and there’s a horrible nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach. He can only imagine the world is going to end. It feels like dread, anxiety churning within him. It makes his entire body itch and squirm. Then suddenly he feels more aroused than he’s ever felt before. He groans because he wants to sleep. He digs the heel of his hand into his cock and squashes his thighs together to try and abate the feeling. It doesn’t work and before he knows it he’s got a dry palm around himself, pumping up and down with a lubeless drag. Eventually, slick starts to dribble from between his ass cheeks and he collects some before stripping his cock again, this time with more force. He gasps as he feels the peak of his orgasm rise and arches his back against the pressure. With several, faltering strokes, he comes over his hand and stomach, breathing heavily into the darkness.

After a cursory clean up, Castiel tosses the remnants in his bedside trashcan and rolls over, thankfully falling asleep.

His dreams are mysterious green eyes, and some lustful anonymous sex with someone he can’t even see. It feels so real, as if he can feel the steady push-pull of someone inside him, someone knotting him. Castiel wakes abruptly with a shout, coming hard from his dream.

Slightly embarrassed, even though there’s no one there to see him, Castiel gets up and strips his sheets, tossing them in the washer. He sets the machine up but goes for a shower first or his hot water will be freezing.

The shower is quick and necessary and he’s finished promptly, stepping out and shivering against the frigid air. The central heating hasn’t come on yet, not this early in the morning. He wraps a towel around his waist and starts the washer on his way to the bedroom.

His room stinks. Despite the chill around his tiny flat, he opens the tiny window in his room. It only opens a crack, some kind of obstructive safety measure which makes his apartment stifling in the summer.

Getting dressed, because there’s no point trying to sleep again when he’s this awake and with only two hours until he normally wakes up anyway, Castiel potters around tidying away bits and pieces he’s neglected over the past few weeks. He makes himself a coffee and drinks it before pouring another, he can already feel the buzz in his head as the caffeine sets in. He starts hearing the neighbours above and beside him start rousing, floorboards creaking above him and doors that can’t seem to be shut quietly from the next apartment.

When the time comes that he normally heads off to work Castiel’s tiny apartment is clean and smelling fresher than it did an hour ago.

His work days drags by slowly, no one new comes into the store, only the few regulars and none of them buy anything. He dozes off several times, only waking when he kicks the board in front of the cashier. Charlie won’t be in until later in the week as she’s off on a getaway with her girlfriend. Castiel misses her cheerful chatting that’s normally engaging enough to stay awake for, for the duration of the work day.

Instead of staying late like he’d done the previous night, Castiel dons his trenchcoat, wraps a scarf around his neck and heads out the door at closing time. He flips his quirky closing sign, something Charlie handmade for him, and heads down the street.

He would go to the bar tonight, he thinks to himself confidently. As he gets to the bar, however, he stops, unsure. He wants to go in, he wants to see who’s playing that music. He’s also afraid of who’s playing the music. It could be anyone. Realistically, he is attracted by the tune, not who’s playing it, but then again, imagining who is playing gives him images of slender fingers and a gentle soul and the pull his Omega brain is feeling isn’t one he can particularly ignore.

With one last deep breath, Castiel opens the door, letting the aroma of beer and whiskey roll over his senses. It’s warm inside and he instantly feels himself heat up. Removing his scarf as he goes closer to the bar, Castiel stuffs it in his shoulder bag and sits upon a bar stool. The bar around him is classy, slightly more upmarket than most, low lighting with a pool table in one area separated by a half wall. All the chairs and tables match in their dark wood.

“What can I get yer?” A deep, southern accent asks. Castiel looks up, a little startled. He scans the fridges of the bottles of beer quickly before deciding on a straight whiskey. It’s not something he normally drinks, he rarely drinks alcohol in the first place, but it will do for tonight.

When the barman slides his drink in front of him, he thanks him and then scans the rest of the bar for where the music was coming from the night before. He spots the piano in the corner, sleek and black and obviously well kept. There’s no one sat there, though, and Castiel can just hear the simple tunes from a CD player over the loudspeaker system. He sighs sadly, so much for hearing the music again. Still, something here is gnawing at him, pulling at his insides and yanking them in all directions. There’s _something_ here. Castiel, much to his own surprise, downs all his whiskey in one go in annoyance with himself, he’s getting worked up over nothing. _It’s not nothing_ , he reminds himself. He flags down the barman once again and asks for another.

“Who was playing the piano last night?” Castiel asks suddenly, taking the glass from the barman. He looks up to the burly man, taking note of his blue eyes and stubbly jaw. He’s quite clearly Alpha, but he seems gentle and kind.

“Oh, Dean?” He says as if Castiel would know, but he has a name at least, _Dean_. He shrugs and gestures for the man to carry on. “Yeah, he comes and goes when he wants, heck of a pianist though. Never’d thought he’d only been playin’ a few years.”

“Will he be here tonight?” Castiel wonders quietly.

The barman huffs a laugh. “Like I said, he comes and goes as-” Benny pauses, grinning over the top of his head. “Speak of the handsome devil—”

Castiel whips his head round to spot a man dressed in dark jeans and a burgundy shirt head towards the back room with a duffle over his shoulder.

“Hey Chief!” The man calls.

Dean turns, and nods. “Hey, Benny.” Dean disappears into the back and Castiel feels as if half his body has gone after him.

“Hey… you in there, brother?” Benny raps on the hardwood bar top and Cas turns back to him, still feeling a little perplexed. 

“Yes. I’m…” Castiel swirls the liquid in his glass around and listen as the large ice cube, now mostly melted, chinks against the side of the glass. He doesn’t finish his sentence, just checks over his shoulder again before downing the rest of his drink. Liquid luck, right?

Despite the tingling feeling Castiel gets, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, he keeps his eyes forward. It’s awkward as he stares into the bottom of his glass, he pictures Dean sitting in the backroom sipping from a water bottle and pulling off his shirt. He quickly dissolves the thoughts of Dean stripping down and scrubs a hand over his face.

Finally— _finally_ —he hears the sound of piano notes carrying across the room and a small smile creeps upon his face. Even Dean running quick scales is beautifully perfect and fills something within him that he’ll never understand. Standing up, barstool letting out a scrape against the wooden floor. Deep down everything Omega within him is screaming out to get closer to Dean. It’s not normally something he lets himself indulge in, stories and news articles of Omegas over the years have stunned him into keeping to himself, but this—this isn’t something he can ignore. The scent, above anything, is something else.

Castiel must have dreamt about meeting an Alpha a thousand times as a child and then as a teenager, and nothing could prepare for how _slow_ it feels like crossing the room. Dean’s playing a tune he doesn’t recognise and assumes it must be one of Dean’s own creations.

“Hey, Dean ain’t gonna like you interruptin’ ‘im.” Benny calls from behind him, but Castiel’s brain is far too focussed on Dean. From behind, he can just about see as Dean’s fingers grace across the keys, black and white and the tune that comes out from them is both deep and energetic.

He hovers for a mere moment when he reaches Dean and silently wonders what he’s even doing, should he be doing this, should he just forget everything and leave and never come back to this place again. What if Dean is like those Alphas in the news, or perhaps he’s not even the Alpha he wants and this is just his body reacting to someone he finds attractive. Castiel wracks his brain to try and remember when his next heat is supposed to be, if he remembers rightly, it’s not far off but surely that can’t be what this is.

The piano has stopped. Castiel has been thinking too long. Dean is staring at him. Fuck.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, somewhat dumbly.

“No.” Dean replies simply, standing up and just walking away, scowl etched on his face.

No? _No?_ He hasn’t even done anything. Perhaps he just smells worked up or perhaps he just came on too strong for him. Did he miss something? Castiel wasn’t expecting all of this to go so wrong so quickly and it feels like the gap Dean’s music had filled has exploded all over the floor leaving him half empty and taken aback.

It feels as if the entire bar is staring at him, but a quick glance around and everyone is still talking and drinking and no one is watching. Except Benny. Benny beckons him over to the bar again. He doesn’t want to go, right now he just wants to go home and hide under his comforter and never leave again. How could he seriously be so stupid?

“Told you not to bother ‘im,” Benny chides gently. Castiel just huffs. Now he really _does_ want to go home.

“I just said hello and he walked off so I’m just going to… go.” Castiel rifles in his wallet for a few dollars tip—more for making Dean walk out than anything—and takes his leave.

**x**

If there’s ever the epitome of bad timing, the man he knows is his mate turning up while he’s trying to keep himself distracted from thinking too hard about his brother, is exactly that moment. Dean had walked into Benny’s Bar to try and drown out the jargon the doctor had fed him about Sam’s condition. About how smoke inhalation and minor burns plus the loss of his mate had sent Sam into a coma. Seeing his brother in the hospital bed looking younger and pale and hurt isn’t something Dean wants to deal with.

The doctor had explained everything. And Dean had nodded and agreed and glanced over at Sam until the doctor had carted him outside. He hadn’t processed any of it, not really. When the only family he’s got left has his life hanging in the balance without much he can do its hard as fuck.

The moment he walked into the bar, his Alpha had been on high alert. And then his _mate_ had come over.

Dean gets up as soon as the man finishes stumbling over non existent words and heads into the back room.  He can barely breathe. He leaves his mate standing there and despite the _need_ to go back and reconcile he knows he can’t. He has to look after his brother first, only once he knows his brother is okay—and he will be okay—then he can think about himself.

It hurts a lot to leave him, already, even though he’s just a few metres away, Dean can feel the deep ache of loss. He balks at how that feels and how his brother must’ve felt the moment he knew Jess had gone.

Sam had told him about what happened, briefly in slurred, tear filled words. “She’s gone, Dean...” he’d said and the hurt had rolled off his brother in tsunami waves, knocking him and sending him into a horrific sense of loss himself. This on top now, Dean’s barely treading water but he knows he has to carry on. He has to push through this if his brother is going to make it out the other side.

They’ve been told time and time again that they feed off each other too much, unusual for two Alpha brothers, especially as it carried on through their adulthood. Still, it’s what undeniably happened and its situations like this that helps neither of them. He got kicked out of his brother’s room for his pheromones being so strong after Sam started seizing. His anxiousness sending Sam into a deeper coma.

Dean paces the back room for several minutes before crashing down on the beaten sofa Benny installed a few years ago for their downtime. Dean’s slept there many a time not wanting to go home. Hell, he even had drunken sex with Benny after they’d closed up for the evening on that sofa, neither of them regret it but neither wanted to take it further.

Head in his hands he growls low in his throat. He’s pretty sure he can still smell the lingering cinnamon of his mate hanging around and it’s driving him nuts. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he fires off a text to Benny and leaves through the back door into the alleyway.

Outside the freezing air clears away the lingering scent and he heads for his car.

Back home, Dean doesn’t eat despite being hungry, he doesn’t even make himself a coffee. It’s disturbing even to himself that he’s not doing these things. Instead he curls up on one side of the couch and switches on the TV before muting it. Absently, he stares at the moving images. Dean remembers when he and Sam used to make up the words for the people on screen, creating ridiculous and, as they got older, lewd conversations. The memory makes Dean’s lips twitch into a smile for a moment. The hours pass by, midnight comes and goes and before Dean knows it it’s 3am and he hasn’t even slept yet.

Standing up and shaking out his legs and going to the fridge. Everything inside looks unappetising but he pulls out a jar of pickles and picks one out, chomping on it while sticking the jar back. He pulls out a pudding cup too and shoulders the fridge door closed. It’s sweet against the tangy dill he just ate and doesn’t really go together but right now Dean couldn’t care less, he just needs to have eaten _something_.

The night ebbs away and when it finally reaches visiting hours Dean’s absolutely exhausted for not sleeping but doesn’t regret it. Instead, he drives to the hospital and signs in.

Sam’s still unconscious and whenever the doctor or nurse pops in to check on Sam they all seem wary of Dean. Dean sits in the corner, in the puke green, leather armchair, one leg folded up over his knee. He reads a book, sometimes reading out a few lines before feeling silly. When one of the nurses catches him, Dean stops reading.

“Keep going,” She says encouragingly, a sickly sweet smile on her face.

Dean does, but eventually dozes off in the chair.

**x**

Despite it being near freezing outside, Castiel feels hot. His scarf comes off and he stuffs it in his satchel. By the time he’s back at his tiny apartment, he’s sweating and he can smell that his heat has come early.

Castiel groans and shrugs off his trenchcoat, hanging it up on the back of the door. He grabs a glass of water before heading into his bedroom. The mattress springs ping as he sits down, head beginning to hurt and body beginning to loosen already. Downing his glass of water, he strips out of his clothes.

If meeting Dean today has triggered his heat, he knows he’s in for a difficult one.

The next few days are stifling. He fluctuates between feeling like he’s going to boil out his skin and so cold several blankets don’t keep him warm. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He tries to get out of bed, he still needs to eat and drink and he didn’t think to bring more than a glass of water he downed on the first day with him. Dizziness creeps over him, his head thumps loudly and it’s too bright even when he squeezes his eyes shut. All that, plus trying to satisfy himself. His hands are weak, he’s pretty sure he’s lost two toys to the floor and his own fingers just aren’t enough. He keens loudly. This isn’t fair. He shouldn’t have to go through this. Everything hurts so badly.

The anonymous green eyes he dreamed about... they’re Dean’s and they’re no longer anonymous. It’s Dean who has imaginary hands all over him. He comes all over himself several times and he knows there’s his slick seeping into his sheets. It’s vile and disgusting but he can’t even get out of bed to shower. His mouth is dry, tacky and even his own saliva doesn’t feel wet anymore. The darkened room makes him dizzy, he can’t even fathom which way he’s looking anymore. Castiel’s heart beats in his chest, heavy and hard against his ribs, it’s not slow or fast, it’s loud and irritating, thumping in time with his head.

Castiel whines as he imagines Dean pressing into him, thick cock deep inside him. Castiel presses his fingers inside himself until his hand begins to cramp from the awkward angle. He stops then, out of breath, out of energy, out of everything. He needs more but he needs to sleep too.

Castiel doesn’t wake up.

**x**

Castiel starts to become aware of his surroundings slowly. His body aches drastically, he still feels hot like he’s mid heat despite realising that it should have been over by now. The moment he opens his eyes and finds himself in the hospital. He can’t sense that anyone is in the room with him until he looks around to find a stern-faced doctor beside him out of his initial line of sight.

“Welcome back, Castiel. It’s good to see you’re finally awake. I’m Doctor Tessa Mejer,” She says. Castiel frowns and moves himself carefully, there’s something inside him, it feels weird but he realises that it’s probably helping him.

“What happened?” Castiel asks.

“Your friend came by after you never came to work. She found you passed out and called the ambulance when she couldn’t wake you. What you did was dangerous, you know?”

“What I did?” Castiel tries to wrack his brain for what he might have done wrong. Oh. The lack of supplies he needed for his early heat. “Oh... it wasn’t... it was early and I wasn’t expecting it.”

“What brought it on so early?” The doctor inquires.

Castiel is about to answer when the machine that the doctors have put him on starts to fill him again. He stays silent, lips pursed as the machine fills him. The doctor waits, completely unperturbed. As it fills him completely, Castiel gasps, it doesn’t hurt but the empty feeling it leaves afterwards. That hurts worse.

“I think I know what’s happening here, Castiel.” The doctor says. “RMS: Rejected Mating Syndrome.”

“What? But he can’t…”

“Who?”

“The man I met at the bar last night. I heard his music the night before so I went back. I saw him and I felt…” Castiel cuts off, trying to gauge just how he feels.

“It was likely a good match between the two of you, even if the man you mentioned didn’t really notice at the time.”

“He said _no_ before I even got three words out.” Castiel sighed, absently, now that the machine inside him had stopped doing its thing, he felt his body relax. It was like being knotted without all the hassle and mess.

“That’s a shame,” the doctor says, writing down several notes on her page. “I want to keep you in for a few days, I need to make sure you’re sufficiently hydrated and start you on a course of Vinculabramide.” Castiel looks at her with a confused expression. “It’s a drug that contains hormones to counteract the imbalance you currently have with the RMS. You’ll get one shot today, one tomorrow and then I’ll write you a prescription for your third shot the day after, unless you’ve not been discharged. You’ll just have to pop into the clinic to receive it.”

“And this machine?”

“Another few cycles, I’m afraid. I want you to complete your bag of rehydrates too.” Castiel looks up towards the clear bag handling beside him.

“Alright.”

The doctor leaves thankfully and the machine kicks in again, filling him and once finished leaving him feeling weirdly satisfied.

There’s not much he can do. He’s practically tied to the bed with nothing to do. He doesn’t even know if he can call Charlie to bring him a book or two to read while he recovers. Instead he stares at the open door, watching people and nurses wander back and forth about their jobs and lives. It’s exhausting. He wonders briefly where people go, what they’re doing and how they live their lives but thinking about it too hard hurts his head.

Perhaps he should try to sleep, that way time will pass quicker and he’d be out of here sooner and he can forget any of this ever happened. He can just about see the clock on the other side of the hallway. It’s nearly 9pm. This was not how his week was supposed to go. He grumbles to himself and fists at the sheets covering him.

Shuffling himself into a slightly more comfortable position, Castiel decides to settle down into sleep. Just as he does though, the machine kicks into life and makes him whine as it fills him. A few stray tears of frustration tumble down his cheeks and he shuts his eyes tightly against them.

Fuck Dean.

**x**

Waking up the next morning is harder than he imagined. He wakes to the doctor poking and prodding him in areas he would rather not be poked and prodded. He growls and the doctor backs off for a moment. She eyes him warily but when Castiel is awake enough to let her continue, she does.

She draws his blood (again) and replaces a bag of hydrates with another. Surely he can cope with a glass of water instead now. “I’ll send these off to get evaluated. It’ll tell us what your levels are and how much longer you’ll need on the ARHM.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s you all sorted for the morning, I’ll get back to you as soon as your blood results are in and then I can give you your shot of Vinculabramide. That should help you feel better soon too.”

“Any chance of a book to read? It’s not exactly fun just lying here.”

“Of course. I’ll get one of the orderlies to bring you something. Any particular author?”

Castiel thinks for a moment. He hasn’t read anything by Vonnegut recently. That should be a good read to pass the time. “Anything by Vonnegut would be great.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” She replies and leaves Castiel alone in his room.

**x**

Castiel watches the clock on the other side of the hallway. The minutes tick by excruciatingly slowly. Taunting his stay here. It feels like hours have passed when an orderly pops his head in and passes him a book. _Slaughterhouse Five_ , not a favourite but still a good one. He thanks him kindly and opens the first page.

Sometime later, deep in another universe of his book, Castiel doesn’t know what makes him look up but he does and he notices that it’s nearly lunchtime and that his stomach is grumbling and requesting food. He doesn’t really feel like eating but he knows he should.

An orderly comes in moments later with a tray of food. It’s just simple food, easy on the stomach but still rich in nutrients, he’s sure.

Afterwards, Castiel finds himself dozing off. He wakes briefly when a nurse comes in and explains that she’s going to give him his first shot. He feels awkwardly embarrassed when he has to expose his ass to her but she just pulls back his covers and injects him without much fuss and with no sympathy to Cas’ hiss of pain. She rubs the area quickly and replaces the sheet before fiddling with a few settings on the ARHM. He waits for it to come to life again but it doesn’t for now.

Castiel falls back to sleep despite the slight ache in his backside from both the injection and the ARHM doing its cycles.

**x**

When Castiel next wakes the hospital is a whole lot quieter than before. His door is still open and with what few lights are still in, he can see it’s a little after 3am. Bleary eyed, he props himself up on the pillows behind him and turns on the dim overhead light above him. A nurse walks past the door but doesn’t pay him any mind, not that he was expecting her to.

It’s a little eerie, the hospital being so quiet. His book is still on the table beside him and he picks it up, flipping to the page he’d got to before. He wants to delve back into it to pass the time and to ease the quietness around him but he feels distracted. There’s something somewhere that’s pulling his attention away. The last time he’d felt like that was before Dean rejected him. The thought sours his mind but makes him ache more. He thought the Vinculabramide was supposed to stop this. He grumbles to himself, snapping his book shut and tossing it to the end of the bed, flinching at the sound as the pages flap loudly.

Someone stops outside his door and Castiel catches them. Instantly he sees green eyes, wide in the dim light.

“Dean?” Castiel says quietly. When he begins to move away and the deep ache in his chest begins to grow, Castiel shouts. “Dean!”

No one comes back. Perhaps he imagined it all. Dean can’t really be here. That would be absurd. In the entire universe of things that could happen, meeting Dean here and having some fairy tale happy ending is the last thing that would be possible. He knocks his head back against the pillow and his whole body revolts the movement. Everything inside him aches and hurts and feels uncomfortable. He wants so desperately to get out of his own skin. Frustration mars his expression, his head begins to ache with it and his body tenses. He’s completely had enough of this. This isn’t fair.

**x**

Dean scrubs his face as he waits for his coffee to come out of the machine. He knows he’s spent too much money on keeping himself awake, but he has to, for Sammy. The coffee machine beeps loudly in the 3am quietness. It’s unnerving how quiet the place gets at night.

Sitting next to his brothers since he’d got back from playing at Benny’s had exhausted him. The thought that something could happen to him constantly keeping him on edge.

Sam had been unresponsive for several days and unconscious for over a week. Dean doesn’t even want to remember the call he got from the hospital. As far as Dean knew, firefighters had found Sam trapped inside his apartment building. He’d been protecting his mate who had died anyway. Sam had, for the most part, come out unscathed, but he hadn’t recovered from losing his mate. He never knew this would happen if a mate died. He’d been told about it in school but he never expected it to be this bad. His dad had survived. His dad never talked about it either, never did until he died three years ago, as they sat in the hospice care watching his dad fade from liver failure and long-standing mate loss. His voice had been barely more than a whisper but Dean held on to every word, especially those about his mother.

Dean paces the hallways, coffee in hand, and tried to clear his head while also trying to sift through everything he’s been told over the last few days. His grip tightens around the flimsy plastic cup as he rattles his brain for the definitions of the several medical terms the doctors had thrown at him.

Suddenly a noise catches his attention and he walks past the open door he heard it from. When he peers inside he catches the sight of someone hauntingly familiar, it makes his gut churn and his thoughts immediately turn to his brother.

Despite the near painful ache in his chest Dean leaves the hallway, ignoring the call of his name. That man. He’d been perfectly beautiful, more than that. He knew for definite that he was his mate the moment he walked into Benny’s bar.

He enters Sam’s room. It’s quiet as it had been just half an hour ago when he decided to get up and get coffee. He fought hard to be able to stay with Sam as his visiting hours were long over.

He’s used to Sam being quiet, normally with his head in a book or writing down notes for his cases and studies, doing homework and assignments. He’s not used to him being so still, Sam was always a fidget—always drumming the pads of his fingers on his thigh as he read or bouncing his pen while thinking, shifting in his seat or pacing the room with a frown on his face. Sam’s so still here. Half the time Dean even wonders if he’s breathing.

He reaches out for Sam’s hand as he sits beside his bed, it’s cool, Sam’s hands were always warm. He downs the last of his coffee, the dregs barely even warm anymore and grimaces at the grittiness of it. When Sam was first admitted, he would at least grip Dean’s hand lightly, now though there was nothing. It scares him. This shouldn’t be like this.

Dean’s chest twinges and he takes in a sharp breath. He lets go of Sam’s hand and squeezes his eyes shut. It hurts so much. He ignores it the moment it goes away. He knows what it is but it’s not something he’s willing to deal with. Part of him knows he’s hurting his mate too, but if they’re apart for long enough their biologies will reset. Running a hand through his hair he grips it tight. It pinches but right now he needs something else to hurt that isn’t his heart. He’s lucky he didn’t go into rut after seeing his mate. His heart aches for his brother and for the man he doesn’t even know the name of. Nothing could be any worse at that moment.

**x**

Despite his racing thoughts and heartache, Dean manages to drift off. When he wakes it’s to a loud beeping down the hallway where he’d been last night as Sam’s doctor opens the door. His heart racing, he can’t help but imagine all that beeping is his mate, especially with the twinge still present in his chest. The doctor begins checking over Sam and Dean tries to force his focus on what the doctor is doing and saying but all he can see is the frown on the doctor’s face.

“Mr. Winchester?” Dean’s full focus hones in on the doctor. The beeping from outside is still going but he needs to listen. He looks up towards the doctor and nods. “It appears that your brother’s condition is worsening. His score on the Glasgow scale is lower than it was yesterday. Mr. Winchester?” Dean’s eyes snap to the doctor. He’d lost focus. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, peachy.”

“You seem distracted, is your chest bothering you?”

Dean’s shakes his head, knowing he won’t be able to voice the lie. His fingers quickly and discreetly grip his jeans and he flashes the doctor a smile he hopes is convincing. It doesn’t seem that the doctor is wholly convinced but drops the matter anyway.

“I’ll keep a closer eye on him throughout today. It’ll be good for you to get out of here, you know. Let your brother rest, your scent and emotions are affecting him too and if you’re not feeling good then neither will your brother. You know how this works by now, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean acquiesces, it’s no use to fight now, he’ll end up banned from his brother’s room again. Dean watches as the doctor leaves and then, with a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder he sets to go for a wander around the hospital.

He carefully navigates so he doesn’t pass the same room as he did the night before and he finds himself staring at the coffee machine. Someone behind him clears their voice, and mumbling an apology he steps out of the way to allow them to grab themselves a drink. He feels weirdly entranced as he listens to the machine hum and whir away.

“You alright there, freckles?” the red head asks. Dean simply nods, not taking notice of the nickname and walks away; he doesn’t even bother with a coffee. There’s something about her. She smells like _him_. Surely that isn’t possible. He needs to get out of the hospital—it’s making him crazy.

Fresh air outside in the small green area the hospital has hits him like cool water when parched. He leans against the cool brick wall and tilts his head back. It’s cool but sunny, warming his face. Already he feels better. Fresh air, no people scents messing with his mind and body, the slight breeze biting against his bare arms. It’s refreshing and resetting.

After several measured breaths, he forms a loose plan and heads back inside. He’ll go back to Benny’s Bar, have a drink or two, play the piano—that always helps clear his mind some—and then head back to the hospital to stay with Sam for the night if the nurses still allow him to.

Dean loses his way briefly and catches sight of the red-head sitting in a chair reading a comic and he makes sure to avoid her. He finally finds his way back to Sam’s room and gently opens the door. There’s a nurse there, talking quietly to his unconscious brother as she does whatever she needs to do. She smiles at Dean as he enters.

“I’m just grabbing my jacket,” He explains as if he needs a reason to be in the same room as his brother.

“You heading out for a bit?”

“Yeah, need to... yeah...” He stumbles. He mentally shakes his head. He is an Alpha, this shouldn’t be so hard.

“It’ll be good for the both of you, go take some rest.” She tells him, glancing quickly at his brother.

“Yeah, sure. Um... look after him,” Dean says, of _course_ they’re going to look after him, it’s their job. Perhaps it’s just instinct that he feels like he has to remind her. He spent most his childhood and more looking out for his brother.

He picks up his jacket and shrugs it on before leaving the room with one last glance at his brother who, as he has been for the past week, is still laying unconscious.

Outside the hospital room, he already feels calmer, he skirts past the room he won’t even go near, and thankfully makes it out of the hospital without any more disasters. The air is cold outside, more so than when he’d been out before. Now even with his jacket on it doesn’t seem to be enough. He makes a quick dash to his car, still there in her beautiful condition. Tossing his wallet and phone on the bench beside him he starts her up and he can feel himself calm as he hears her purr.

Instead of going straight to Benny’s, he decides to go for a drive first. He wants to find the longest road possible and just drive. No cares, no worries, no thinking, nothing. Just him, his car and the tarmac below them. The steering wheel is cold beneath his fingers but it quickly warms up, the further he drives.

**x**

She performs beautifully, engine roaring and feeling as if she’s beating inside of him, he’s also pretty sure he smiles for real—something he hasn’t done in too long—and it feels good. He sees a sign for a view point up ahead and drives his Impala towards it. He pulls her in so he’s facing the view and it’s stunning. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the bench seat and just stops. Slowing his breathing, along with everything else. The twinge in his heart has faded some but it’s still a reminder of what he left. He knows he shouldn’t have but if something happened to Dean and his mate ended up like Sam or like his dad, he wouldn’t have it. It’s no way to live life. Mates just become so intrinsically attached in every way possible, it’s painful and destroying when they die or leave.

Those blue eyes blink at him slowly behind his closed eyes and he feels stirs of emotions he’s not willing to set free bubble in his gut uncomfortably. A tear escapes and he brushes it away angrily. Dean’s eyes shoot open and he opens his car door. He picks up a large, rotting branch that’s close to him and lobs it at the tree that’s overhanging the viewpoint. It shatters like an explosion and something within him is abated.

He came up here to forget everything and he’s managed the exact opposite.

Alphas don’t cry. His father told him that several times. He’s starting to disbelieve him about that. The first time he’d seen Sam after Jess’ death, Sam had sobbed in his arms until he cried himself into unconsciousness. He wonders if the same happened to his dad when Dean’s mom died. He knows he didn’t speak for a while, and he vaguely remembers being carted off to his uncle’s house for a while—he realises now that his dad had gone through what Sam’s going through. His dad made it, albeit changed and harsher in the aftermath, but he’d made it.

He’ll never forget the way his father took his face in his large hands, eyes soft for the first time in forever. “I’m gonna go find my mate again. I’m so sorry, Dean.” He’d said. It was the last words out of his mouth before he died. He’d never exactly know what his father had been sorry about, but there were plenty of things on the list it could be.

He doesn’t think about Sam changing, turning into how their dad used to be. Sam’s temper and stubbornness had always been a mirror of their fathers but he was always so much kinder in general. Raising Sam was his greatest achievement and it felt almost like he was failing right now when he couldn’t look after Sam. Sure, he’d been at college but he knew he was safe at least... safe until a fire ripped through their tiny apartment.

Dean turns back to the Impala, checking her over for any dents and abrasions he knows won’t be there. Resting his arms against the cool metal, he lets his head fall upon them. He smells the outside; crisp air, wet leaves and grass.

He feels ready now, as his lifts his head and eyes the shattered remains of the log he’d thrown. He slides gracefully back into his car and heads back towards Benny’s bar. The drive itself enough to make himself feel better, more Alpha and less... emotional.

There’s a parking spot just around the corner from the bar and he remains in his car to make sure he’s got his emotions in check. It’s not like he’s hiding from Benny, the other Alpha is his best friend after all, it’s just that he doesn’t need to lump all his issues on the other guy.

The sign reads _closed_ as he approaches but he knows he’s more than welcome to go in anyway. The door is unlocked and, unsurprisingly, Benny is behind the bar, ambling about with checking the amount of alcoholic stock he has.

Benny doesn’t acknowledge him as he sits down but Dean knows that he’s clocked him. It’s hard to get anything past Benny.

“How’s your brother getting on?” Benny asks, stacking a few bottles back on the layered shelving and turning to Dean.

“Not much change, worse if anything. Doctors think I’m making it worse.”

Benny gives him an incredulous look. “Doubt they said that,”

“They said that my _emotions_ are interfering with the way his brain needs to reset after Jess.” He clarifies, it’s basically the same thing.

“You’re sad and you’re making your brother sad, makes sense. Seeing you hurt is hurtin’ me too, Chief.” Benny doesn’t let Dean say anything, just pours him a shot of whatever alcoholic liquid is closest. Dean sighs before taking it and downing it quickly. The alcohol settles in his stomach funny but it quickly passes.

“Did the guy who came in here the other day tell you his name?” Dean asks suddenly. If he thinks too much, he’ll never get answers. Part of him doesn’t need answers but most of him still does, he’s going to regret knowing but the itch to know is beginning to bug him beyond sanity.

Benny seems shocked for a moment before he collects himself. He probably saw everything that happened that night. “Nah, fella just asked about your music and seemed intent on talking to you. I tried to warn him that you’d probably not want to talk but he went anyway. Seemed pretty upset after you walked off. Kept his head high though. Brave fella.”

“I feel like I fucked that up.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Probably. But give yerself a break, life ain’t exactly sunshine for you at the moment.”

Dean’s quiet. It’s true what Benny says, he knows he fucked it up. Especially after finding him in the hospital. He’s probably the cause of it, he didn’t miss the sight of the Automated Rut Heat Machine running next to his bed.

He stands, nodding at Benny in a silent question, not wanting to say anything gets else. “Go on, go play yer tunes,” Benny says like he’s five years old.

Dean seats himself on the podgy stool and opens up the cover. He warms up, pressing a few keys and chords in no particular order before easing into some of his favourite songs. Some he learnt by ear until he got them right, others he learnt from song books and tutorials online. He was surprised when he found it so easy to learn. Benny letting him have free reign with the heirloom grand piano had been perfect.

Dean lets the tunes flow out of him like a breaking dam. Once he starts he barely takes a break. He closes his eyes and he can practically feel the music reverberating through him. This is a feeling he can live for.

Benny nudges him back into the current world and tells him it’s nearly opening time. “You stayin’ tonight or shall I put the music on?”

Dean checks the time again. He’s been away from the hospital practically the entire day. “I should go.” Dean says.

“Alright, be safe, Chief.”

“You too, Benny. See y’around.”

**x**

It’s past the time for visiting when he gets back to the hospital. The winter sky is dark and lit only by streetlamps and he shivers with the temperature drop as he heads into the lobby to sign in.

The nurse at the front desk tries to remind him that it’s past the time for visiting but Dean just shakes his head and tells her he has permission to see his brother after hours. With a sigh, the nurse waves him through and Dean’s pretty sure he hears her mutter about entitled Alphas getting their way.

He doesn’t listen to her and before he knows it he’s at his brother’s room. He sneaks in quietly as if he’s fifteen years old again sneaking back into their shared room. Sam would always wake though and ask him where he’d been, he’d never tell dad though. He half expects Sam to do the same now but all he gets is the beeping of the heart monitor. After a day for himself he thought he could do this. But the heavy feeling is back.

The night wanes, Dean reads from the book he left on the table next to Sam out loud and he dozes intermittently. In his short bouts of sleep, he can only dream of blue eyes and kind features, he wants to relish in the warm feeling it gives him but he manages to jolt out of sleep before he goes too deep.

Dean gets frustrated with trying to steer his dreams away from the man so he stands up and heads out the door. It won’t hurt to talk to him, right?

He doesn’t remember where the man’s room was but he knows he’s going in the right direction. Hospitals have constant masking for pheromones to protect designations for each other for their own safety. People can react in the most bizarre ways when scents of hurt and pain and loss are clouding the air.

He eventually finds himself in a familiar corridor standing in front of a, slightly ajar, familiar door. If he peers inside, he can see that he’s awake, reading a book. It seems odd for 3am, he looks so alert.

Dean stares for so long that the man catches his eye. He doesn’t get a smile or a _hello_. Instead the man glares at him and he can feel it all the way down to his toes. He steps in anyway and he can smell the scent the man is giving off even with the hospital’s blocking in place. He’s supposed to be the best thing he’s scented but right now it’s soured and twisted. It’s all his fault too.

**x**

Castiel glares at Dean who’s stood stock still in the doorway. He has no business being there at his door, not after he put him through a secondary heat, worse than the first and being close to exhausting him to death. He briefly wonders if he still looks like he’s been crying as there’d been plenty of that ever since he last saw Dean and called out for him.

He’d been down to get off the ARHM the next day but now he’s been told hell remain on it until his levels have normalised. They’d sky rocketed after seeing Dean and causing himself distress. The doctor had given him some kind of strong suppressant to shut his heat down before it killed him.

“Get out,” Castiel growls. It’s not as strong as he wants but it stops Dean stepping forward. He doesn’t leave though and Cas can feel his heartbeat quickening. He wonders if it’s in his head as the heart monitor doesn’t react. What does react is the sensor sending his pheromonal levels to the screen on his right. Thankfully he must have been out of it when they inserted it, it’s not known to be a painless procedure. “You’re hurting me, Dean.” Castiel tells him. He needs to know after all.  He can’t have him waltzing in when he feels like it, projecting his alpha mating pheromones and sending his body into a frenzy of exhaustion and pain.

“I just want to know your name,” Dean says, head bowed and not looking at him. He can’t tell what’s worse, Dean acting submissive towards him or him being here in the first place.

Castiel doesn’t let up though and keeps his stern gaze on Dean. He can smell Dean from here, the same earthy tones he was met with the first time he found Dean in the bar. The notes of the music he’d heard drift back into his mind, turns out he hasn’t forgotten them and they’re still as beautiful as when he first heard them.

“Please,” Dean says, his voice barely above a whisper. In the moments Castiel had been daydreaming about Dean’s music and his more than enticing scent, Dean’s stepped forward. He closer and his scent is stronger, overtaking the blockers being pumped through the air vents.

Castiel takes a deep shuddering breath. From here Dean looks vulnerable, nothing like the pompous, too good for him, Alpha he tried to think of him as. He quickly realises there’s a reason Dean’s in the hospital and he doesn’t look ill or hurt himself. Castiel feels like an asshole now for trying to turn him away. He knows it’s unrealistic of him and that Dean was the one to reject him first but he’s not helping himself now. This is something his body wants. This is something _he_ wants. He’s twenty-eight and he’s not getting any younger, before he’ll know it, he’ll be old and then no one will want him, he’s got to make this work. He can only hope Dean changes his mind. He doubts hell survive another heat so close to the last horrifying one.

“Castiel—Cas for short.” He replies quietly, he’s still looking at Dean who isn’t looking at him. Dean’s fair hair looks a little unkempt and the clothes he’s wearing don’t seem to have seen a washing machine in a few days.

Finally, Dean looks up and he smiles. If another heat doesn’t kill him, he’s sure Dean’s smile will. It’s an easy smile and Cas can tell it’s genuine. “Do you mind if I sit?” He asks.

Speechless, Cas just nods to the chair. The monitor is starting to pick up on his anxiety, both his heart rate and his pheromonal levels are all over the place. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to have triggered any kind of alarm to the on-duty nurses.

They sit in silence at first, it’s awkward with neither of them really looking at each other but somewhere around 4am, the tension breaks. Dean reaches for the books Cas has been reading and Castiel watches as he smiles again, eyes tired and sleepy.

“Didn’t get far, did you?” Dean comments and turns his nose up when he finds Cas has dog-eared the page. Cas huffs a laugh and feels a weird sense of content that Dean seems outraged by Castiel’s mistreatment of the book. “Can I read to you? I read to Sam sometimes and he seems to find it okay, not that he can tell me anyway.”

That intrigues Cas some, and makes sense. “That explains why you’re here.” Cas says gently. He doesn’t know how Dean will react. “I almost chalked it up to fate—destiny,”

Dean grins and cuts him off. “A horse?”

“Don’t quote Tangled at me!” Cas pouts. His amusement knocks down his own self built walls, letting them crumble over him and letting him _breathe_ as if he hadn’t been able to since he initially saw Dean. Castiel laughs, too loud for 4am but he doesn’t stop until he shifts funny and the machine inside him knocks a wrong spot. “Ow...”

“What...?” Dean’s smile falters at his pain. Castiel waves him off and sorts himself into a more comfortable position.

“Just the machine. That’s all.”

“Does it hurt?” Dean wonders, his cheeks flush lightly.

Castiel shrugs lightly. “It’s not always comfortable. The doctors just want to get my levels down at the moment. They’ve given me a few medications to try and level them too, which might be why they haven’t changed much since you came in here.”

“Jesus,” Dean whispers.

Castiel flashes a smirk. “No, just stupid biology.”

There’s a cough at the door and a stern eyed night nurse is stood in the door way. “Mr. Winchester, this is a private Omega room, you’re not supposed to be in here. You’re lucky enough to be able to stay with your brother after hours. I won’t hesitate to send you out of his hospital.”

“Sorry, Cas. Looks like I gotta go. I promise I’ll come by in the morning,” Dean glances at the clock. “Actual morning that is.”

“Mr. Winchester,” the nurse grumbles impatiently. Dean waves and he feels like he’s a teenager again, face flushing and butterflies chasing each other in his stomach.

The nurse mutters after Dean as he leaves and his door clicks shut after them. He suddenly feels very alone. Tears prick the back of his eyes and a lump forms in his throat. Dean’s been gone for three seconds and _this_ is how he reacts. The machine measuring his pheromones beeps once with a warning and he tries his best to steel himself and keep his emotions in check. No doubt there’s already pheromones coursing through his bloodstream despite the various medications he’s on to counteract Dean himself. It’s almost guaranteed that his body will fuck itself up one more time just because it’s him and that last ounce of liquid luck in the form of whiskey in the bar seems to have done the complete opposite.

Castiel is suddenly overcome with tiredness, the extreme change in his emotions from solemnly reading to having a laugh with Dean to being completely alone, exhausting him.

Castiel turns on his side, finding the most comfortable position and falls asleep. He dreams contentedly of Dean—no raucousness involved—and he sleeps for hours.

When he wakes he’s surprised to find that the ARHM has been removed from him, though the slight sting of the PheroCheck is still there on his hip. The IV bag giving him fluids has been taken down and a jug of water and a glass are set know the table next to his book. He sighs, remembering Dean never actually got to read to him. He imagines that hearing Dean’s voice read the words to him would be soothing and mesmerising. He’s also sure that five words in he’d stop following the book and would probably end up distracted by Dean himself. As much as he’d been an ass the first time they’d met, he feels like Dean has redeemed himself some. He’d been surprisingly gentlemanly about it and not as Alpha as he’d would have expected. He wants to ask why Dean’s in the hospital but he has a feeling that won’t go down so well. Castiel is sure that Dean will tell him when he’s ready.

The doctor seems happy with Castiel’s pheromone levels and announces that he’ll be able to get out of the hospital that evening on the condition that he’s able to take an unassisted walk around and his levels are balanced enough before he goes. Castiel smiles at the doctor and signs the few papers he needs to sign.

He’s throwing back the sheets before the woman has even shut the door and stands up carefully on shaky legs. After over a week in bed it almost feels unnatural to walk on his own two feet but a quick walk to the bathroom without disaster to complete a task that he hasn’t done without medical aids for the past week is a relief.

He feels human again. The ache in his chest that had been ever present since the first night he left the bar has dissipated and in turn a newer feeling has arrived, one of happiness and hope instead.

He never knew just the thought of being able to get out the hospital after his two most exhausting and terrifying heats would make him feel so elated.

The time comes around and the doctor takes the last reading of his pheromones during the afternoon after he’d been for a walk outside in the fresh but cold air. He winces and gasps as the PheroCheck receiver is removed from his hip. The nurse stitches the wound with dissolvable stitches before protective gauze is pressed over the lightly bleeding area.

He dresses then, in the clothes that Charlie was thankfully able to pack for him. While not his usual attire, Charlie has packed him his worn jeans and red zip up hoodie. They’re comfy and after a small debate with himself, he’s more than glad this is what he has to wear. Charlie said she’d pick him up as soon as he texts her to say he’s ready and Castiel goes to the reception area to sign off the last documents he needs to sign. His stomach is filled with a nervous energy until it’s replaced with a cold dread.

Dean never came back to see him like he said he would. He stumbles over his signature but makes sure to keep himself even. It’s nothing. Dean’s here for a reason too, he’s probably busy seeing whoever he’s here for.

“That’s you all done, Mr. Novak.” The woman behind reception tells him. Castiel watches as she collates his papers and puts them in a folder with his name on the front.

“Thank you, have a nice day.” He replies respectfully and turns to leave.

On second thoughts, Castiel goes back into the hallways of the hospital. His focuses himself to see if he can scent Dean over the blockers in the air, he thinks he can smell him. He doesn’t have much luck though in finding him and his heart sinks. He doubts his presence would be welcome wherever Dean is anyhow. Whoever is in the hospital he’s here for must be special to him. He doesn’t want to think that the person may be a partner, but the thought drifts through his mind anyway and explains why he was so adamantly rejected in the first place.

Castiel’s no home wrecker, if Dean’s already in a relationship he’ll walk away and make sure he can cope with the RMS he’s likely to suffer more from over the next few weeks if that’s the case. It’s more manageable when not in the throes of a heat. Some daily tablets instead of invasive injections for a start, which rattle in Castiel’s pocket as he sits down in the small café area.

His mind is whirling so much he doesn’t even sense anyone behind him until he hears a voice. “Look at you wearing clothes,”

Castiel’s head shoots up and his eyes immediately lock with Dean.

“I’m not a home wrecker, if you’re already in a relationship, please tell me so I can walk away.” It’s not what he expected to come out his mouth and Dean looks taken aback by his words too.

“Sam’s my brother. I certainly ain’t in a relationship with him.” Dean replies. He pulls out the opposite chair and sits down carefully. “I’m not in a relationship, Cas,”

Castiel takes several quick breaths, and nods. “Okay, that’s.... I apologise for assuming.”

“It’s fine, he started getting better this morning. Right after I told him about you.” He sees as Dean smiles down at the table, it’s not for him, it’s relief for his brother.

“What did he say?” Castiel wonders, curiously. Whatever Dean had said to Sam had a positive effect on him.

“He didn’t say anything. Ah...” Dean scrubs a hand through his hair anxiously before resting his arms in front of his as if to take hold of Castiel’s. Their hands didn’t touch though. “He’s been in a coma these past two weeks. The night you saw me at Benny’s, I’m sorry for that. He started to go downhill that night and the whole situation had me on edge which was actually making my brother worse so the nurses kicked me out. Benny is who I go to when shit happens that I can’t control. I play because I can ground myself.” Dean explains.

It makes so much sense to Castiel now, the night he was rejected he realises now that he had completely overlooked Dean’s grief for his own lust. Castiel’s hands reach out for Dean’s but Dean pulls away before he can reach him. Dean looks down again, he doesn’t act Alpha at all around Cas which is perplexing and new. Even Alphas coming into his bookstore have tried it on with him. Dean just seems genuine.

“I wanna do this. I really do, Cas,”

“But?” Castiel can practically feel his stomach sinking. If Dean pushes him away again now, it will make for a hell of a recovery.

Dean’s hands finally, _finally_ , move and encase his own. They’re warm and calloused from what he imagines is years of working. Idly, Dean’s thumb stroked against his knuckles.

“But I need to get my brother back on his two feet. That’s important to me.”

“I understand.” Castiel says sincerely. He does mean it too, of any of his own siblings were seriously ill, he’d want to make sure they were okay first too. “I think... it will give me chance for my body to reset itself too.”

“I triggered our bond, perhaps next time we meet it’ll trigger again but we’ll both be prepared for it next time.” Dean gives him an easy smile then, and Castiel is more than glad that his extra dose of Vinculabramide is working alongside the suppressants.

“Will that work?” Castiel asks, a little dubious. He wants it to be right more than anything, but he can’t think how it would work realistically. He’d never heard of it happening before.

Dean shrugs, “Guess we’ll find out,”

On that note, Dean stands, his hands dragging away from Castiel’s and leaving them cold. Dean’s most the way down the hallway when Castiel scrambles up from the chair, it scrapes loudly on the linoleum flooring.

“Dean! How will I know when you’re ready?”

“Look on the table,” Dean tells him with a small laugh.

When Castiel looks on the table they had been occupying, there’s a small shred of paper on the table and a cell number written on it.

_Text me, I’ll let you know when I’m ready._

Castiel smiles, when he looks up Dean is already gone. Instinct tells him to go after Dean, to complete their half-formed bond but he knows he has to go home. He has to spend a few days recovering and getting over the RMS. He has to go back to work too. He’s left Charlie in charge of the bookstore for nearly two weeks. It’s Thursday and he vows that Monday morning he’ll go to work and let Charlie have a few days off in return for her helpfulness.

Castiel pockets the small slip of paper and rings up Charlie to give him a lift home like she said she would. It doesn’t take Charlie long to get there as if she’d been awaiting his call.

The drive home is filled with Charlie chattering about her weeks at the store and Castiel welcomes the distraction. The further he gets from the hospital the more noticeable the ache inside him becomes. Charlie doesn’t seem to notice, Castiel just hopes the tablets he’s been given will ease it until he can see Dean again.

**x**

**_2 months later._ **

Dean had text him the day before announcing that they could meet up again. It was perfect timing as Castiel had finished his tablets the week before. He feels as good as he’d done before he’d met Dean which he hopes is a good sign. They agreed to 8pm on a Thursday evening but Cas has been ready since he closed up shop and left early. He’s practically vibrating in his shoes, dying to get out of the door and down the few streets to Benny’s Bar.

After the hundredth time looking at the clock across his living room, Castiel gives up and leaves over half an hour early. Maybe Dean will be there playing the piano again. He hopes so.

Much to Castiel’s delight, as soon as he’s a few metres away, he can hear Dean playing. It’s so similar to what he heard the first time, this tune has much happier vibes to it though.

Opening the door quietly, Castiel is mesmerised as he walks towards where Dean is sat at the grand piano. He watches his gentle hands drift over the keys and he’s so drawn in by the movement he doesn’t even notice any of the other patrons. Dean’s scent this time is perfect and he feels that familiar tug in his chest and the hole that had been there for the past two months seems to be filling itself with Dean’s closeness. It’s a bond trigger. Dean was right.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel finds the words to announce himself before stepping back to give Dean some personal space as much as he doesn’t want to do so.

He can see, even with Dean turned away from him, that Dean smiles. Dean carries on playing, the tune carrying something special and making the hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck stand on end.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, fingers not stopping. The tune carries on for a few more moments before Dean tapers off and turns to him. His eyes are soft for a moment, but a look of excitement is there in a flash. Castiel doesn’t have time to say anything else before Dean is on two feet and his hands are cupping his jaw.

Flashes and sparks tremble between them and Castiel finds his hands holding on to Dean’s arms as he kisses him. It’s so _Alpha_ and Castiel’s Omega brain submits to him so easily it’s almost frightening.

Castiel pulls back, “Dean…” He gasps. He can feel the bond forming, tightly within him and he knows Dean can feel it too. Dean’s scent changes a little, from a leathery gunpowder to something more natural and earthy. They’re bonding fast and hard and it’s dizzying.

“Cas, we should get out of here.” Dean tells him, pulling away and grabbing his hand. Castiel is pulled towards the backroom where he’d seen Dean go the first day he saw him. There’s another door that leads out the back of the place and that’s where he hazily sees what he assumes to be Dean’s car. Dark lines and shiny in the little light there is. “Will you come back to my place?” Dean asks lowly, a slight rumble in his voice.

Castiel doesn’t have words. This is _everything_. It’s all he’s thought about the past two months and now it’s happening and they’ve scent bonded. He just nods at Dean and lets the Alpha pull him into the passenger seat before Dean climbs in the other side. The rumble of the engine, while loud, is no match to the perfection that is the sound of Dean’s voice as they drive towards Dean’s house. Everything inside Cas is filled with thoughts of Dean.

When they stop, Dean leans over and presses tiny kisses to the side of Cas’ neck, making him gasp. “C’mon,”

“Please,” with the combination of the suppressants he’s still taking and the course of Vinculabramide, he knows he’s not in heat, far from it, but it feels like it. His skin is pepper hot and Dean’s scent is filling his nose. He follows Dean into the house and up the stairs. The house is cold but he barely feels it.

“Hey, Cas. You with me?” Dean’s right in his space and Castiel is lost in the man’s green eyes in the low light.

“You’re beautiful.” Castiel says. Dean smiles a little and presses kisses to his lips.

“And so are you, omega.” Dean counters. Castiel’s head tilts a little and he moves in to kiss Dean again. Castiel thumbs around the edge of Dean’s belted jeans before moving his hands up inside Dean’s shirt. The Alpha’s body is soft but toned as he glides his hands further up. He hears Dean gasp and his eyes flick to Dean’s. “Your hands are cold,” Dean lets him know gently. Castiel laughs before moving his hands again and pinching Dean’s nipples lightly. Dean growls and Castiel moves his hands away, he can always ask again later. Right now, Dean’s taking charge and Castiel is downright going to let him.

**x**

Dean is on fire. His cock is so hard as he presses his body into Cas’. Castiel’s hands are cold from outside and as soon as they reach his nipples, Dean grumbles. He likes it, absolutely adores it when someone plays with his nipples but right now is not the time. Now, Dean just wants to push Cas down on the bed and have his way with him.

The omega is stunning. Dean crowds him towards his bed and Castiel goes easily, pliant and smelling of cinnamon, reminding him quickly of homemade pies. His thighs bracket Castiel’s hips and he ruts against him. Castiel just smiles at him carefully, pupils blown wide with arousal. He bares his neck, the top few buttons of his shirt having popped open and Dean takes his chance to nip lightly at the skin there. He hears a whimper from Cas and feels as his hips buck up into him.

They’re both wearing far too many clothes. “Can I?” Dean whispers, tugging gently at Cas’ shirt.

“Please,” Castiel rasps back. Dean makes quick work of the buttons and Cas sits up a little to aid Dean in peeling it off. Castiel is even more beautiful underneath. It’s clear the Omega looks after himself—his muscles aren’t prominent but they’re still well toned and his skin is smooth and slightly tanned. While they’re close, Dean’s hands cup Castiel’s face and he kisses Cas deeply. Tongues mashing together and both humming into the kiss contentedly. Dean breathes deeply through his nose and grins into the kiss with excitement. Their scents are getting stronger as they begin to bond properly. Cas seems to notice it too and when he does Dean adores the smile he receives.

Castiel tugs at Dean’s t-shirt and Dean quickly removes it before unbuckling his belt. Castiel helps him out, undoing his jeans and pulling them down a little. Dean begrudgingly has to move himself off Cas for a moment to fully remove his jeans but it allows Castiel to do the same. When Dean finally settles back on top of Cas, neither of them are wearing anything. Hot, flushed skin on skin making them both sweat already. Dean can feel the heat pooling in his dick as its hardness grinds into Cas. Castiel is also hard, he can feel it digging into his hip awkwardly, but a small shift lets Cas’ cock free and presses against his own.

Dean’s brain is running at a hundred miles an hour, he wants, however, to take this slow. They’ve both been waiting for this moment for two months and he doesn’t want it to be over in the blink of an eye. His dick and Alpha brain have other ideas.

He peppers kisses over Castiel’s chest and his hand drifts down to where their cocks are together, wrapping his hand round both of them and jacking them up and down at a slow leisurely pace. Castiel’s eyes widen at the sensation and his hands come to rest on Dean’s slides. Cas’ hands have thankfully warmed up some and the feel of gentle fingers running up and down his ribs and the occasional squeeze as Dean jacks them particularly roughly bringing them both to an edge they don’t yet want to fall off.

Dean switches from kisses to light nips of Cas’ nipples, relishing in the tiny gasps he gets in return. “Knot me, Dean... please!” Castiel whines, digging his short nails into Dean’s back with pleasure. Dean lets out a moan in acceptance because this is what he wants more than anything right now. Knotting Castiel is his goal, or so his Alpha brain reminds him.

“Present for me, Cas,” the words are barely above a whisper, almost catching in Dean’s throat.

Castiel turns below him, and Dean can already see and smell the mess he’s made, leaking slick over the bed sheets, it smells delightful, more honey-ish than Cas does himself. He loves that Cas smells like honey when he’s aroused. Castiel’s back is an expanse of smoothness, strong shoulders and back muscles and an ass that should be sculpted in gold. Dean lets his hands run over Castiel’s back, helping the Omega to relax a little before he goes ahead and starts preparing him.

“Please, Dean...” Castiel encourages. Dean needs no more prompting after that and coats two fingers in Castiel’s own slick before pressing them slow and deep inside of Cas. The Omega grunts and shifts at the intrusion but doesn’t move away, if anything he pushes back on Dean’s fingers. A little scissoring and crooking his fingers to find Cas’ slick gland. When he finds it, Castiel lets out a louder than expected yelp and pushes back hard into Dean’s hand. It’s hard to keep control for a moment, but his free hand on Castiel’s lower back makes the omega still and keeps him steady. Castiel’s hole is flexing against his fingers and it’s only a moment before Dean adds a third. “Dean!” Castiel humps the bed but Dean quickly adds a fourth finger before pulling out entirely.

Castiel whimpers and keens under the loss of Dean so he slicks up his cock and lines it up with Cas’ now prepared hole.

Dean changes his mind last minute and turns Castiel onto his back again, Castiel can present for him another time. He strokes Castiel’s warm thighs as they snake around his waist.

Dean presses in slowly and he’s not prepared for how tight and hot Castiel feels. Dean lets out a gasp as he slides in before carefully draping himself over Cas’ form.

“That’s...” Cas stutters. “You feel amazing,”

Dean relishes in the praise and pulls out before sliding back in with a good thrust. His hands reach for Cas’ and they lace together. Their breaths are the loudest sound in the room, hot and heavy under the exertion. Dean thrusts in and out, setting up a good steady rhythm. They carry on kissing, chasing after each other’s mouths. Their skin becomes more and more sweaty, Dean nips at Cas’ shoulder, nearing the edge. He can feel his knot is about ready to pop so he slows himself down, makes himself last.

Castiel’s legs are hooked round his hips, and his own legs are stretched out enough to push Cas’ thighs apart. They kiss again and Dean pulls Castiel’s hands closer before letting go and stroking down Castiel’s ribs, feeling the tense and lean muscles on the way down. Their eyes lock, Castiel’s eyes are the most gorgeous blue, he knows that, but now all he can see in a faint ring of blue and pupils dilated with arousal. Dean’s thrusts quicken again. He has to knot Castiel. Finally, with three more firm thrusts, Dean’s knot begins to grow and catch on Castiel’s rim. He watches as Cas winces when it catches fully and he slows his thrusts and just gently rocks them together.

Hot breaths, pants and light moans permeate the air. They’re tied together now, Castiel’s hips still locked around Dean’s hips. If he’s careful, Dean will be able to reach for Castiel’s cock and Jack him off, with the state the omegas in, it won’t be long. Dean shifts, tugs his hand from where it’s laced tightly within Castiel’s and wraps it round the omegas cock which is straining between them.

“Ah!” Castiel grunts and Dean feels as his knot tugs against Cas’ rim. He gives him a look of apology, words escaping him completely while his Alpha brain is taking charge.

He pumps Castiel’s cock several times, making sure he’s lubricated with Cas’ slick to ease the way. He teases the head and thumbs the slit until Castiel digs his heels into his ass with over stimulation. Then, he jacks him off quick and efficiently until Castiel is writhing beneath him and coming over his hand. He can almost hear Castiel growling lightly as he tries to recover. It’ll be another ten minutes before Dean’s knot will go down so Dean makes them as comfortable as possible. Every so often Castiel will tighten around Dean’s knot, milking him for what he’s worth and it’s the best and worst thing ever. His knot will never go down if Cas keeps teasing it like that.

Dean quirks a brow at Castiel but the Omega just chuckles and drags a finger down the side of Dean’s face, blinking slowly in the low light of the bedroom. Their breathing evens out and Dean lets his hands thread through Castiel’s hair now slightly damp with their exertion.

Finally calm enough to speak, Dean manages to sneak in one more kiss before doing do. “You okay?” Castiel just nods, still seemingly without his voice. Dean smiles down at him and rocks them together, Castiel shakes his head with a gasp so Dean stops.

“Too much,” He manages. “That was perfect though, thank you.”

“No need for thanks, you did half the work,” He reminds him with a wink. Dean’s knot has gone down enough for him to pull out. They’re both sticky and cooling down rapidly enough that Castiel begins to shiver lightly. He moves away enough to grab a few tissues from the box beside his bed and swipes up the majority of the mess. Dean pulls the covers over them both from where they’d ended up in a heap on the floor, Dean pulls Castiel’s back close to his chest, his now soft dick trapped between them. He can scent Castiel properly now without the overwhelming smell of arousal. The cinnamon is back alongside the now faint honey smell. He noses at Castiel’s neck, and wraps his arm over Cas’ body.

It would usually be too early to sleep but they’re both exhausted from the mating and bonding. If they’re up early in the morning, so be it; maybe they can find a way to pass the time until a more sensible hour comes along. It’s a little weird at first and despite being tired, it’s hard for Dean to settle. He just mated with Castiel, the person he knows is his mate and the person who had waited for him.

He’s also not used to having someone else in his bed, someone else breathing in his ear and moving against his chest. He’s not used to the extra warmth and comfort that having bonded comes with, it’s all very new to Dean and while he often puts on a brave face and marches through, he really feels like he can just be himself for once. He has a fair few non-Alpha tendencies which he’s finally come to terms with for himself, he can only hope Castiel will accept him too. He’s sure he will, he can’t doubt the man he just mated. This man beside him, despite their somewhat rocky start, is someone he can love. Now that the initial trigger has passed and then again when they decide to blood-bond, they can be themselves together, push their secondary genders to one side and just be Dean and just be Cas. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With a sigh, Dean wraps his arm around Castiel’s chest tighter and cautiously shuffles into a better sleeping position. Castiel moves, turns over to face him with a world-weary look in his eye. Dean’s either about to be chastised for moving too much or Castiel wants to be the big spoon.

“You’re thinking too much, I can feel it,” Castiel says, voice thick and sleepy.

“Thanks for giving me a second chance.” Dean tells him simply. Just those few words make him feel lighter. He bumps his nose against Castiel’s, finds his mouth and presses a kiss there before resting their foreheads together. Castiel’s eyes are shut, though he’s not sleeping. They breath in sync for a while and Dean can feel himself drifting off. His brain slowly shutting out the million and one questions he has about them, about Cas, about himself. Finally, he sleeps.

**x**

Castiel goes back to work with a spring in his step after that. Everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed at the same time. He still gets up and goes to work, he still talks about books and comics with Charlie. He still walks to and from work in the bitter cold.

However, some nights he drops in to Benny’s Bar and he’s there for Dean and Dean will play that song for him, the one he heard that first time. It turned out Dean had been making it up as he went along, dragging ideas and chords from his favourite songs and nit-picking them to find out why they were his favourite and then meshing it all together to create something completely different.

Dean calls it Cas’ song and it makes him blush every time. They sleep together almost every night and partake in gratuitous sex most nights too. Dean doesn’t always knot him, which is completely fine by Castiel. They’ll save that for the special occasions. They’ve spoken a little about blood-bonding and they’ve both agreed to wait despite everyone around them telling them that they’re truemates, that their bond is a forever thing. It makes sense as to why it had been such a horrific disaster the first time round. Had it been a normal mating trigger, Castiel wouldn’t have gone into heat _that_ early and certainly not twice. They visit Castiel’s doctor together and he’s able to confirm that they are true mates. A simple blood test, one that Castiel takes in his stride but Dean seems squirmish about and puts on a brave face for the doctor until they’re back at Dean place and he lets loose a string of complaints. It’s amusing to Castiel, watching Dean rave while he has a cotton ball stuck to  the inside of his elbow. Castiel calms him with a kiss and a few days later the results show the permanent bonding process has started even without them blood-bonding.

They tell their friends. Dean tells his brother and Castiel meets him at Benny’s. Dean mentioned a few times that his brother was a sasquatch but he seems a lot taller than expected for a little brother. The younger man is nursing a beer and facing away from everyone else. Castiel knows what happened to Sam now, a 3am heart to heart that Dean will deny ever existing solved that.

He gives Sam a gentle smile and sits down next to him after waving at Dean who’s playing a few patron-requested tunes.

“Hello, Sam.” He says, signalling to Benny for his usual and handing over the money.

“Thank you,” Sam replies, half standing and engulfing Castiel in a hug.

“What for?”

“I could hear everything and I remember everything too from when I was in a coma.” Sam starts, returning to his seat and taking a swig of his beer. “Dean told me about you. He talked about you a lot. He was hurt when he rejected you, came to me and said it was a mistake that couldn’t be rectified. I could feel his distress. We grew up close enough that even as two Alphas we end up feeding off each other’s emotions.” Castiel keeps quiet, this is Sam’s time. “I could feel my body reacting to his emotions, to him suffering from RMS just like you did. Except Dean’s good at hiding it physically... just not so much emotionally where I’m involved.

“He told me he saw you while getting coffee one night, you were wound up and frustrated, he could feel that from you and you hadn’t even begun to bond at that point. You two’ve been it for each other from the moment you met.” Sam pauses thoughtfully and then sadly. “I’m happy for you both.” Castiel feels horrible that Sam’s already been through this once, been through something that’s ten times worse than RMS and come out the other side without too many issues. Sam smirks then, “the night he got kicked out your room he came back to my room happy and he held my hand to tell me about it. I held it right back.” Sam smiles properly, dimples at each sound of its mouth. Dean’s right, Sam can get away with anything with that smile.

“Hey! Quit your mother’s meeting and come over here. Sammy stop trying to steal my mate. I saw that smile.  I told him to be wary of it.” Dean’s in a good mood, and now that Sam and Castiel have cleared the air with everything, Cas is happy and Sam is as happy as he can be.

Benny’s bar might be more on the classy side of things, but there’s still a pool table for Dean to hustle everyone, despite Benny’s warnings. Castiel turns to Dean’s brother, flashing him a cunning smile.

“You and me against Dean? Seems fair right. I’ll put down twenty that we win,”

Sam grins, chuckling lightly while Dean feigns absolute horror. He pouts, so Castiel goes over and nudges him out the way to set up the game. Dean stands close behind him, being unhelpful as Castiel tries to lay it out right. Castiel turns when he finally manages to finish setting up and kisses Dean dirtily.

“Hey! Public place!” Benny yells from the bar good-naturedly. They break apart at Sam’s laugh and Dean whispers into Cas’ ear.

“If I win I get to do whatever I want to you... if you win, you can do whatever you want to me,” Castiel sucks in a breath, cheeks flushing and several fantasies rush through his head. One last peck on the cheek and Castiel moves off to grab his cue from where they’re stacked against the wall.

“So, are we winning or losing tonight?” Sam asks. It’s no surprise he _knows_.

“I think we need to win.” Castiel tells him, ears burning. Dean’s grinning seductively at Cas. Sam rolls his eyes and Cas pockets his twenty. There’s many a thing he would like to do to Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! It's been over a month in the making :D


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